


unwilling love

by imadetheline



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: Darth Vader’s voice slices through what air he’d been able to suck in, “Kenobi lied to you, Luke.” His name in Vader’s mouth sends an uncontrollable shiver through his limbs. It sounds like possession and mine. But he ignores it as Vader speaks again. “I did not kill your father, child. Your father is alive.”And that, that’s too far. Luke’s searching gaze stops, landing squarely on the man’s terrifying mask with all the heat he has left, his heart pumping wildly in his chest, “Liar! You killed him! My father’s dead! So why don’t you just hurry up and finish what you started because I’ll never join you!”
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 173
Collections: Luke and Vader Bonding





	unwilling love

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt from the amazing songbird-wings on tumblr [here](https://songbird-wings.tumblr.com/) go follow her yall! and if you want to request something send me an ask on my tumblr linked at the end and if i have an idea for it I may write it :)
> 
> "Ok so maybe something with Vader and Luke where they’re in a battle and the building or cave they’re in collapses but Vader instinctively goes and pulls Luke out of the way but Vader is stuck under the rocks and Luke decides to help him. Idk u can go any direction with this but like Vader saving his son and then Luke saving his father idk 💙"
> 
> Thank you so much Camilla! This was so fun and got much longer than I was expecting. I hope you like it!

He doesn’t know how he keeps ending up in these situations. Vader is striding down the long hallway towards him, red lightsaber casting a menacing glow over the bodies of dead rebels and mounds of rubble from the partially collapsed ceiling. The alarms are blaring, bright flashes of light illuminating the white walls of the rebel base; they’re almost blinding as they reflect and scatter the flares, and yet the black of Vader’s suit seems to swallow all light, just as his presence sucks all the air from Luke’s lungs.

Anger flares in his chest, but it’s quickly overtaken by fear. It’s his father’s killer, but he’d tried to take his revenge on Cymoon 1 and had almost died in the process. He’s still nowhere near prepared to face the Sith lord. His heart is thumping loudly in his ears, nearly drowning out the screams he can hear from the upper levels of the base,  _ almost.  _ His anger flares again. His friends are up there, and it’s Darth Vader’s fault they’re dying.

He sucks in a breath, releasing the anger into the Force. He’ll be no use to the rebels if he’s dead. He spares a glance to the hallway behind him, already knows what he’ll see, but half hopes it’s changed. 

It hasn’t. The hallway is caved in, rubble piled high, and the exit smashed to pieces. He knows even if he had the time and wasn’t about to potentially be killed, he couldn’t have managed to clear it with his limited training in the Force, which means the door behind the quickly approaching dark lord is his only means of escape.

Luke grits his teeth and attempts to steady his shaking hands as he ignites his father’s lightsaber. The brilliant blue light brings some measure of comfort, like a steady warmth in the Force, so different from the swirling cold he can feel emanating from the dark menace sweeping towards him. Luke raises the saber in defense, glaring at the monster approaching like an inevitable wave. He just has to distract him long enough to creep around him and escape.

Darth Vader’s heavy footsteps stop, cape swishing about his heels, no more than a stone’s throw in front of Luke. The skeletal helmet tilts slightly, and Luke gets the distinct and unsettling sense he’s being studied. He shifts his stance, hefting his lightsaber a little higher. Vader’s is still pointed down, point almost brushing the floor. The light of their sabers meets halfway between them, a mix of red and blue. The regular hiss of the man’s respirator can barely be heard over the blaring alarms and lingering shouts. The base rumbles beneath their feet.

The gathering cloud of cold fire reaches for him, once again, but Luke shoves it back and pulls his shields tighter around him. He’s not sure how effective they are as he had to teach himself a shielding technique, but he does not want that monster anywhere near his thoughts if he can help it. It seems to do something because the cold pulls back, not far; it still swirls around the two of them, heavy as the tension in the air, but it doesn’t attempt to reach for him again. Luke will take what victories he can.

Despite the whirling cold surrounding the dark lord in the Force, the heat is stifling. The bombings and partial collapse of the base must have knocked out the temperature regulator. Sweat drips down Luke’s temple. Still, Darth Vader makes no move to raise his saber or attack. If Luke wasn’t terrified, he might find the energy to be slightly frustrated. The longer this drags out, the longer he’s stuck, unable to help his friends. 

So he takes a small step forward, raising his chin defiantly. If this is going to be it, he’s going to go down swinging, same as his father. “So, are we just going to stand here all day?” There’s the smallest ripple of surprise from the towering figure still standing perfectly still between him and his escape. Even Luke’s surprised at his own audacity. He adjusts his grip on his lightsaber. He expects Darth Vader to attack then, red blade singing through the air.

Instead, it only twitches minutely in his gloved hand. Luke’s gaze flicks to the blade at the movement, but Darth Vader remains unmoving. “Put down your weapon, young one. Surrender, and we do not have to fight.” Vader’s voice is as deep and unreadable as ever, echoing in the emptiness of the hall, and yet, through the Force, Luke feels the slightest tendrils of amusement.

Luke’s anger flares. He’s not a child. And he’s certainly not going to just surrender to his father’s murderer. He lunges forward, and Vader’s saber rises to meet him. Their blades meet in a clash of blue and red, the heavy tension shattered. Vader’s faint amusement is gone. Luke can feel his growing anger whipping around them in the Force, and he tamps down his fear again. 

The hum of their lightsabers seems to drown out everything else. It’s the only thing Luke can hear as he struggles to hold a steady defense against the monster made of pure brute strength. He had learned something from his last encounter with the Sith, though, and now he uses his slight frame and short height to avoid the aggressive strikes. The base once again rumbles beneath their feet. This time stronger, and Luke almost loses his balance, Vader’s saber sliding down his blade’s edge towards his hands as he lurches to the left. The man hardly seems to notice the shift beneath their feet, remaining frustratingly steady.

Suddenly, Darth Vader steps back, blade still raised between them, but it allows Luke to steady himself and adjust his grip on his lightsaber. Why would Vader not take advantage of Luke’s loss of balance to cut him down? An answer tugs at the back of Luke’s mind, but he hisses and pushes it away, breathing heavily but raising his blade higher in defiance. 

Vader speaks again, “You have improved, young one, but you would benefit from proper training. Come with me, and I will instruct you.”

Shock freezes Luke’s muscles for the smallest of moments before anger surges through him in a wave, adrenaline rushing to his muscles. He’s not able, nor does he try to push the anger away this time. He attacks with a growl, “You killed my father! I will never go with you!”

Vader’s blade once again meets his, but for the first time in this fight, it’s in defense, Luke’s blow too forceful in his anger to be swatted aside. Luke catches the faintest sense of pride floating from Darth Vader as he presses his advantage, but his anger quickly distracts him from thinking too much of it, even as it’s drawn back behind the man’s shields.

Eventually, Darth Vader pushes him back, and they stand facing each other once again, Luke heaving and Vader as composed as always. A faint yell pierces the air between them, coming from above, and Luke glances upwards; in his anger, he’d forgotten his plan, his friends.

Apparently, Vader’s decided he’s done playing their game because Luke’s slight moment of distraction as he reorients himself is enough for the dark lord to tug on his saber and send it flying from his fingers even as he tries, desperately but too late, to tighten his grip. The now unlit hilt smacks against Darth Vader’s glove, and Luke feels his shoulders slump slightly, dread bubbling in his stomach. He curses his luck and lack of training.

Luke takes a careful, hesitant step backward and scans his surroundings hopelessly, looking for a way out that doesn’t involve being captured for execution. He’s interrupted by the hiss of a lightsaber, and he freezes as blue light once again fills the hallway. Vader flicks Luke’s lightsaber around, helmet inclining to examine it. Luke’s anger at his father’s murderer handling his father’s lightsaber is quickly eclipsed by his fear and desperation. He takes another shaking step back, lungs seemingly not finding enough air.

Darth Vader’s voice slices through what air he’d been able to suck in, “Kenobi lied to you, Luke.” His name in Vader’s unmistakable voice sends an uncontrollable shiver through his limbs. It sounds like possession and  _ mine.  _ But he ignores it as Vader speaks again. “I did not kill your father, child. Your father is alive.”

And that, that’s too far. Luke’s searching gaze stops, landing squarely on the man’s terrifying mask with all the heat he has left, his heart pumping wildly in his chest, “Liar! You killed him! My father’s dead! So why don’t you just hurry up and finish what you started because I’ll never join you!”

He doesn’t particularly want to die, but it makes more sense than whatever lies this menace is trying to tell him. The Force around him whispers something, but he doesn’t understand it, so he pushes it away. The cold presence of Vader wraps around him tighter, but it’s not constricting. And then the rumble echoes again, and it might be his exhaustion, but it sounds softer, “I do not wish to see you dead, young one.” 

Well, that’s new information, especially considering his near-death at the man’s hands on Cymoon 1. He scoffs, “Could have fooled me.”

That seems to reignite the familiar ice of Vader’s ire, and the booming returns, “You are being foolish, child. Come with me. I will not harm you.”

Luke’s fist clenches at his side. He’s just stalling the inevitable. He can’t see a way out of this. If Vader is this determined to take him, he won’t let Luke get away. He’s defenseless and trapped and the subject of the monster’s full attention. “Why would I ever trust you?” he says, almost spitting out the words, venom dripping as he gestures to the bodies of rebels that litter the hall behind Vader.

Something in the Force is screaming that he shouldn’t have asked that, that he won’t like the answer. But it’s inevitable now; he can feel it tugging at him, waiting only for Vader’s voice to echo the sentiment. And echo it he does, “Because, Luke, I am your father.”

Something shatters. The air in Luke’s lungs turns to vibroblades. It’s impossible to breathe. The Force is screaming in confirmation, something snapping into place between them. He wants to claw at his head, rid it of the whispers and screams, but he can’t move, can’t breathe. Nothing makes sense. All he feels is cold, wrapping around him. 

Vader is stepping towards him, and something is rumbling, shaking. Maybe it’s the man’s--his  _ father’s _ \--voice. But the rumbling doesn’t stop. Luke’s world is shaking, crumbling, with the force of the revelations. And then the Force is yelling  _ move.  _ He wants to yell back  _ I can’t _ , but there’s no air in his lungs.

And then he’s being moved. The cold wrapped around him shoves harshly, and he stumbles backward towards the dead end. Another shove and his back slams forcefully against the mound of rubble behind him, and he collapses… right as the ceiling above where he’d been standing gives way as well… on top of Darth Vader.

His vision is consumed by darkness for one terrifying moment before he’s able to blink dazedly. The sharp white walls reflect harshly on his retinas, and dust enters his lungs with every gasping breath. It’s so hard to breathe. His back burns every time he tries to suck in air. He squeezes his eyes shut again before tears can form. He’s missing something, something important. There’s a fog in his mind. Where is he?

He manages to get his arms underneath himself and pushes upward. His back screams, and he drops ungracefully back to the ground with a groan. The dust is settling, though, and he can make out another huge mound of rubble in front of him. Memories trickle through the fog and the ringing in his ears. He’s in the rebel base. The hallway had collapsed. Why hadn’t he been crushed? Someone had pushed him. He doesn’t remember who. He must have hit the rubble behind him, though, which explains the stabbing pain in his back. 

He finally manages to lever himself up on shaking arms. The muscles in his back contract with the strain, and he almost collapses again with a scream. But he reaches blindly for the Force to strengthen him and finally reaches a sitting position. From there, he’s able to use the pieces of the building behind him to pull himself to his feet, unsteady as he is. The fog in his mind is clearing a bit, and he reaches again for the Force seeking answers. As soon as he brushes against the swirling maelstrom, though, it almost sends him sprawling again, his knees buckling before he catches himself on the rubble behind him. His hand protests as a piece of metal cuts open his palm, but he clings to it amidst the screaming in the Force.

Darth Vader… his father. It can’t be. It’s impossible. And yet, it’s the only possibility; he can’t escape it.

His eyes catch on a dark shape half covered by the piles of rubble in the middle of the hallway, and his heart clenches again. It’s not moving. He can’t focus on it, can’t acknowledge the connection he’d felt snap into place before he’d been tossed across the room. His eyes skim past the form looking for a way out. There is none. Rubble blocks both ends of the tunnel. He’s trapped and injured with- His brain screeches to a halt, uncomprehending; He’s not trapped and injured with his father’s murderer, he’s trapped and injured with his  _ father.  _

His hand slips from the rubble, and he’s stumbling forward, towards the dark mass on the ground, the figure that had pushed him away from the collapsing ceiling, the figure that had saved him. He finally remembers. His father had saved him. His vision is blurring, and he can feel tears making tracks in the dust coating his cheeks. 

Luke stares down at the half-covered figure below him, blood dripping steadily from his palm, but he barely even registers the pain anymore. The collapse must have crushed the alarms because the respirator is loud in the silence despite the hitch in its normal steadiness. Luke’s confused and lost. The part of him that’s wished for a father since he was a boy waiting in the sands of Tatooine is screaming to pull him from the debris. But the other part of him is yelling that even if he didn’t kill his father, he’s still a murderer, he still deserves death.

But his desire for revenge is gone, faded into the nonexistent wind. He tries to summon a flicker of the anger he’d felt earlier. He doesn’t have to kill him; he just needs enough anger, enough hate, to turn away from the figure and find his own way out, leaving the man to his fate. But all he can summon are wisps of pain and grief and confusion. He’s scared, and he’s lost, and he hasn’t felt this much like a child in a long time.

No matter how much he tries, he can’t leave the man, his father, here, trapped. Finally, he makes up his mind. He’ll free his father of the rubble so it won’t crush him, and then he’ll find his own way out. The Imperials can find the man once Luke’s gone. The problem is, he’s not quite sure how to go about moving the unconscious man. He examines the tower of metal and rock with a newfound determination now that he has some semblance of a plan. There’s no way he can shift it, and he knows with his aching back and still unsteady legs he’ll never be able to pull the mountain of a man free, even if that wasn’t guaranteed to collapse the unstable debris. The only possibility is the Force. 

Luke sighs heavily, struggling to heave in a deep breath without sending spikes of pain through his back. He’s barely been able to shift a rock under normal circumstances in the past. How is he supposed to manage this? But there’s nothing for it. Even if he wasn’t trying to save his… father, he still needs to get out of here himself, and this is the only way.

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, reaching for one of the rocks. The Force is quieter now and answers him, even if it is a little strained from his lack of energy. He pulls, slowly, carefully, and the rocks begin to shift.

It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to move one of the stones to the side where it drops with a thud that rattles Luke’s teeth in his skull and makes the headache building at his temples spike. He knows adrenaline is the only thing keeping him standing as he lifts a second one, not daring to shift his attention to wipe the sweat from his brow or stop to attempt to bandage the cut on his hand. He knows if he stops, he won’t be able to regain his tenuous grip on the Force, even if the blood loss is probably not helping anything.

But slowly and surely, more and more of the black-clad figure is being uncovered, and the exit becomes more reachable. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut and lets the Force guide him. He knows even if he opened them he wouldn’t be able to see anything with the tears and sweat mingling on his face. His back is a steady ache, and somewhere his hand’s bleeding has slowed to a sluggish trickle. He can’t quite feel it anymore, though. He knows his limbs are still there, but they’re numb even as his legs shake beneath him. The last vestiges of his strength are failing him.

And then there’s a wave of calm washing over him, cool and comforting as it flows around him and bolsters his strength in the Force. Luke reaches for the last stone covering his father, and it reaches with him, helping, and the stone is lifted with minimal effort. As soon as it’s clear of the man lying on the ground, it falls, Luke’s strength, even with the extra burst of energy, finally leaving him. In his dazed concentration, he hadn’t noticed his father’s waking, and now it’s too late. He knows he’s too weak to do anything.

His knees smack against the harsh floor and send jolts of agony through his back as he crumples beneath the pain, his energy depleted. He barely registers the dark helmet slowly filling his vision as he’s turned over, back protesting. There are arms wrapping around him, strong arms, and they’re cradling him, and he feels safe, so safe, despite the pain raging through his muscles. Even as he thinks that some of the pain dims, replaced by soothing cold. For some reason, he knows nothing can hurt him here, wrapped in the cold fire, held in these arms. His father’s arms, something whispers. His vision blurs, from tears or exhaustion, he doesn’t know, maybe both. The dark mask still covered in dust swirls as it tilts down to regard him. He can’t focus his eyes, but it doesn’t matter.

There’s a hand carding gently through his hair, and Luke knows he’s crying now, safe in the arms of the father he’d never been able to know as a child. He feels words whispered through their bond, and they’re words he’s longed to hear his whole life.  _ You are safe, my son. I am so proud of you. Rest now. I have you.  _

Luke wants to sob, maybe he already is, but the hand in his hair is soothing, and the voice is whispering of sleep, and he’s so tired. So he allows his eyes to slide shut, confused but content in the arms of his father.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


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